The Tucker Initiative
by captdeb
Summary: Trip is having a hard time dealing with his sister's death. Malcolm is determined to help, if he can only figure out how.


His first mistake had been trying to talk to Trip. If there was one thing Malcolm had learned over his misunderstood, awkward life, it was that words were not his friend.

The commander's sharp words had stung, but Malcolm was trying very hard not to take it personally. Never mind that they'd been uncomfortably close to the ones Trip had flung at him not so long ago in a freezing shuttlepod. Never mind that Malcolm was relatively new to the whole friendship thing and couldn't help but wonder if he and Trip were back to square one. Rationally, he knew that Trip was hurting from his loss and Malcolm was merely a convenient target for that pain. But Malcolm was also Trip's friend, and if he couldn't find the words to help, he'd have to let his actions speak for him.

"Maybe you should pay more attention to upgrading your weapons, so you can blow the hell out of these bastards when we find them," Trip had said.

Malcolm could do that.

"Malcolm!"

Tucker's voice rang through the armory, empty except for the lone lieutenant hunched over the main console. Malcolm had relieved the beta shift crewman, knowing he'd be working well into the night anyway. He straightened, rubbing at the crick in his neck. "Commander," he greeted, stifling a yawn. "I thought you'd be asleep at this hour."

"You did it again, didn't you?"

Malcolm blinked, finally registering that Trip was angry. Scratch that, Trip was damn near furious. "I'm sorry? What –"

"Goddamn it, what did I tell you about swipin' power from the engines for your damn weapons?"

"I drained less than half a percent from the impulse engines. I didn't think it would be an issue, as we're traveling at warp." Malcolm strove to keep his voice calm and non-confrontational. "It replenished within two hours, and I was able to gain almost three gigajoules on the phase cannons."

"That's not the point." Tucker's face was inches away from Malcolm's, and the engineer's eyes were hard. "You think you know better than everyone, don't you? Always trying my patience, always pushing. Big on rules, except the ones you feel like breaking. Well this time you're not getting away with it. You're on report. And I swear, Malcolm, the next time you pull a stunt like this I'll have your rank."

Trip stormed out, leaving Malcolm to slump wearily in his seat. It seemed he couldn't do anything right when it came to his friend, but he wasn't going to stop trying. If there was a way to help Trip, Malcolm would find it.

Two days later he wasn't any closer to a solution. He'd tried being sympathetic, and he'd only succeeded in making Trip mad. He'd tried doing his job, supporting the commander in his quest for vengeance, and made Trip even angrier. Malcolm Reed, master tactician, was nearly out of ideas.

"Enterprise to Lieutenant Reed."

Malcolm looked up from the food he wasn't eating. Hoshi and Travis were watching him with matching grins. "Sorry, did you say something?"

"Everything okay, Malcolm? You're pretty distracted today."

For a moment, he was tempted to tell them his dilemma and ask their advice. They were Trip's friends, as well, and surely they'd noticed his behavior. "Everything's fine," he finally told them. "I'm due back in the armory," he said, rising with his plate. He turned around and ran straight into Trip Tucker.

The engineer wiped mashed potatoes from his uniform, his jaw set in a tight line. "Lieutenant –"

"Commander, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you standing there."

Tucker closed his eyes. Malcolm noticed that his hands were curled tightly into fists. "Malcolm," the commander ground out, "do you think you can just stay the hell out of my way? 'Cause lately, every time I see you I end up wanting to punch your face in."

A light went on for Malcolm. He didn't know much about emotions in general, but by God he understood repressed rage. Suddenly he knew exactly what he could do to help his friend.

"Is that so, Commander? I'd like to see you try."

Trip opened his eyes, took in Malcolm's sneer. "Don't tempt me, Lieutenant. Do NOT tempt me."

"Why not? Don't think you can take me?" By now several crewmembers were watching in stunned silence. Malcolm stepped closer, dropping his voice so that only Tucker could hear. "Come on, Commander. If you want to have a go at me, let's go to the gym and do it properly." Tucker gave a small, sharp nod, then turned on his heel and left the mess.

Hoshi and Travis approached, eyes wide. "Malcolm, you're not seriously going to fight him," Hoshi asked. "Are you?"

"Don't worry," he said, managing a weak smile. "He just needs to blow off some steam. I know what I'm doing."

A few minutes later, Malcolm had cause to doubt his claim. He was fairly sure he could take Trip, all things being equal, but the engineer's simmering rage and Malcolm's own desire not to hurt him were definitely complicating things. Malcolm concentrated on keeping his guard up, protecting his face with his gloves and snapping off an occasional jab while Trip rained blows on his torso. Whenever he sensed Trip was slowing down, Malcolm thumped him hard, and the flurry of blows commenced all over again.

He began to worry when Trip caught him in a clinch, pounding his fist repeatedly into his kidney. His eyes were watering and little grunts of pain were escaping him, but he didn't try to break free because now Trip was crying against his neck as he punched. Gradually the blows stopped and Malcolm found himself slipping to his knees, gloved hands wrapped around Trip in a clumsy embrace. "I know," he muttered around his swollen lower lip. "Shh. I know."

Trip was a dead weight in his arms, sobbing into the front of his sweaty uniform, but then someone pulled him away. Malcolm wiped his eyes on his sleeve and saw that Archer was holding Trip, talking to him in a soft voice. "I've got you," the captain murmured, leading his friend away. "Everything's gonna be okay."

_Well,_ Malcolm thought, _my job here is done. That's how they'll remember me. Good old Malcolm, he sure knew how to take a beating._ He tried to rise, and a sharp stab of pain through his lower left back sent him back to his knees with a gasp. He fought the urge to curl up right there on the floor, but he couldn't imagine who would care if he did.

"Let's get these off," a voice said, and Travis knelt beside him, yanking off the sweat-slick gloves. On his other side, Hoshi was dabbing at a bit of blood leaking from a split in his lip.

"This is going to sound strange," she said as the ensigns helped him to his feet and started towards sickbay, "but that is just about the sweetest thing I've ever seen anyone do for a friend."

END


End file.
